Mathematics and Statistics, and my pathetic attempts at avoiding it

“Please, if you really exist, please let me scrape a distinction in math!” I cried, looking heavenward. “I’ll do anything!” I said; ready to strike a deal even with the demon. “I’ll study well for my SATs! I promise!” I said, waiting for some kind of divine answer to pop up in the room littered with papers and books labeled Mathematics and Statistics Part 2 for grade 12.

Mind you, I don’t do this on a regular basis. Not that I am poor at math or anything…I was just in dire need of help. I scored a 95% in math in the tenth grade (Impressive, I know. Thanks.)

I was desperate. I needed something…something that would make my month-long attempts at slogging fruitful.

After 3 hours of study and brain racking calculus, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was gasping for breath. This was too much. I needed to get out of this place. After a brief argument with my mother, I stormed out of the house. Cranking up the music as loud as I could, I began marching to where my feet lead. I wanted to get away. From everything. The nagging feeling, the dread of the looming examination and the greatest horror of them all, returning to another night of calculus.

On my way, I followed a familiar trail to what I thought led to my old school. Walking past lanes and by lanes, I found myself in alien surroundings. The road was deserted, the silence so loud that you could almost hear it. It was broken by the occasional scrape of dragging feet and the cackling of  bats. I turned around to see a haggard, unkempt beggar, with long matted hair, dragging a load of junk behind him in what appeared to be a huge trash bag, making his way towards me. Uh- oh.

That did it for me. I turned and ran on my heels towards the only source of civilization I heard, not daring to look behind. After an hour-long of wandering, I found my way home.


I should study a bit more and then go to sleep, I thought, as I looked up at the clock that struck 11. With what started as a successful attempt at integration, ended in a miserable state of crossing outs and paper scraps. “I think I should go eat something,”  I said, rubbing my stomach. It was almost 11:30.

After grabbing a bar of chocolate and a glass of milk, I started with calculus again. With three sums done, I threw my pen across the floor and leaned back in my chair contemplating the horrors of the godforsaken subject. It seemed  like an eternity had passed. I think I should call up my friend, I need to check on her. It was 12:00 am by now. I think I’ll finish the rest tomorrow, I decided as I rubbed my eyes setting the alarm for 4:00 am.

I woke up to the sounds of birds chirping and stretched under the covers as I turned to look at the time.


6:45 am!!! I scrambled out of my bed and flicked open the nearest book I could reach. Cramming all the possible formulae that I could, I ran to the bathroom to grab a shower.

Too soon for my liking, the exam bell rang. Here comes the horror, I muttered under my breath. This horror was something that gave me panic attacks, made me sweat profusely and sent chills down my spine. This horror surpassed the fright of vampires and banshees. Hell, that wasn’t even a horror. And why would it be if you had Dean Winchester and his six feet of unadulterated hotness by your side? 😉

“Thirty minutes left!” rang the teacher’s shrill voice. Oh no! Had I been daydreaming?! With all the knowledge that I had crammed within the last few days, I scribbled some numbers and letters onto the writing sheet before handing it over to her.

I did a rain check as my eyes raked over the faces in the class. Their expressions showed me the amount of trouble I was in. From what I could gauge, many seemed unperturbed. And for some, like me, had it etched clearly across their foreheads, “The Paper Sucked.”

Sighing, I collected my material and ran out of the room not wanting to make communication with those overly eager people who wanted to discuss the paper. I had been through it once, to go over it a second time and realize my errors? No way.

Once again, in the train on the way home, I cranked the music up a notch to drown out the never-ending rants of my fellow exam givers. But no matter how loud the music was, it wasn’t loud enough to drown out snippets of their conversation that went like, “Oh that one was easy! Nah, that was a bit tricky! I guess I’ll be losing two marks. If I hadn’t been so foolish, I would have scored full marks.”

Seriously, where was a fairy godmother when you needed one?

Nursing a sore head and heavy feet, I opened the door of the house only to be greeted by my very welcoming mother. “Will you pass?” she asked.


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